Spies Never Die: Hearts of Glass
by Smileyfax
Summary: James and the Krew investigate a global conspiracy behind all terrorism and violence, and the key may lie in industrialist Wise Glass.
1. Chapter 1

Bond pushed the speedometer of the Aston Martin past 90 mph (fuck Metric) while Kail leaned out the window, firing his Falcon 2 at the car they were pursuing, hoping to pop a tire or get a lucky shot at the driver.

"JOHN!" Bond warned as two men carrying a plate-glass window suddenly walked into the middle of the street.

Kail ducked inside the car just in time: the Aston Martin plowed through it, breakint it into a million pieces which would have lacerated Kail's precious face.

"That was a close one!" Bond said.

"...I can't believe that ACTUALLY HAPPENED," Kail replied. "What is this, some cliched movie?" Just then Bond drove through a fruit stand, knocked over a bum's purloined shopping cart, and drove through the third story of an office building thanks to a convenient ramp.

"A RAMP? A fucking RAMP? This is a major street in Rio de Janeiro! What the FUCK is a RAMP doing on it?" Kail complained.

"Look, do you want to bitch about the realism of this car chase, or do you want to pull off some sweet stunts?" Bond asked.

"...Can you make the car flip over like three or four times and land on its wheels again?"

"You bet!" Bond said excitedly, hitting another ramp at just the right angle.

XXXX

Kail's eyes fluttered open. He saw the rest of the Krew standing around him.

"Mhhphhfm?" he asked.

"You're in a hospital, Kail," Bond explained.

"Ubbhuphj?"

"Well...the car might not have landed exactly on its four wheels."

"BRVVVUHB?"

"You were in a coma for three weeks," Smiley spoke up.

"We were afraid you weren't going to make it!" Irennie interjected, tears in her eyes.

"Fortunately, we finally got the Evil QUeen of Numbers to pay for a real doctor, instead of a veterinarian who had had his license revoked for molesting his patients..." Bond realized everybody was staring at him. "She's right behind me, isn't she."

"I'm right in front of you, 007," M sneered. Bond screamed and ran out of the room like a little girl. M turned to everyone else. "You managed to take out Nausers, but you still haven't found out the greater power behind the scenes. I'm disappointed."

"You know, we might be able to FIND this greater power if you..." Smiley trailed off as M walked out of the room. "I really hate it when she does that."

Bond peeked into the room. "She's gone? Thank GOD." He re-entered the room fully. "Was she all cryptic and shit about a higher power again?"

"Mmmhph," Kail said.

"Oh!" Bond realized. "I totally forgot, you don't need that feeding tube anymore." Pussy and Irennie began giggling wildly, causing Bond to stare. "What? Is there something funny about feeding tubes?" Pussy and Irennie just giggled harder. "How would both of you like it if feeding tubes were shoved down both your mouths?"

"Oh, Smiley and I will do that later," Pussy said, giggles dying down.

Bond finally pulled the feeding tube out, causing Kail to scream in between hacking up blood on his hospital gown. "JESUS, James! You think a REAL DOCTOR could do that next time?" he finally rasped out. James began weeping.

XXXX

The Krew broke through the glass skylight, rapelling into Sergio's penthouse apartment.

"Ah, the famous James Bond and his friends," Sergio greeted. "I've been expecting you."

Pussy, Smiley, and Kail swept the penthouse for traps or henchmen while Bond and Irennie kept Sergio at gunpoint.

"Please, Mr. Bond. Those guns are unnecessary," Sergio schmaltzed. "Please, have some of my wine. It is an excellent vintage."

Bond shrugged and took a glass. "Well, I Do have a history of drinking on the job. Why stop now?"

Irennie shook her head, mouthing 'You fucking idiot'.

Surprisingly, though, there wasn't any poison or sedative in the drink, and soon Sergio and Bond had gone through half the bottle between them.

"Mr. Bond, my life is in danger as long as I'm alive. And because of that, I want to tell you everything I know."

"Everything, you say?" Bond asked.

"Yes, everything. As long as MI-6 can protect me, I will tell you absolutely everything I know about the greater power you seek."

Bond looked around to see if anybody disagreed. "I think we can accomodate that. Now, tell us what you know."

Sergio nodded. "The man you seek is-URK!"

"Urk, huh? Tell us more about this Urk," James said, taking notes.

"Uh, James..." Kail said.

"Not now, Kail. Sergio, I must know more about Urk."

"James!" Smiley said, more urgently.

"Not NOW, Smiley! Sergio, TALK!"

"JAMES!" the Krew shouted in unison.

"WHAT?" James finally shouted, looking up from his notepad.

"LOOK!" The Krew pointed to Sergio. James turned his head, and saw that a nice fist-sized hole had been blown out of Sergio's face, depositing his brains nicely in his lap.

"Ewwww!" Bond recoiled. He turned to the window, which had a bullet-sized hole in it.

There weren't any other buildings in sight.

Without warning, James kicked out the window and leapt out.

"JAMES, YOU IDIOT, I'VE TOLD YOU THAT YOU CAN'T FLY!" Kail screamed as the Krew raced to the window.

The Krew looked down to see James with his hands around the neck of a man in a window-washer suit -- you see, the assassin was a man on a suspended window cleaning platform! Bet you thought James had mindlessly committed suicide!

"TALK!" James demanded.

"Never," the assassin gritted.

"HA! YOU SAID 'NEVER'! YOU TALKED!" James crowed.

"You can't stop them. Nobody can."

"WHO? STOP WHO?"

"I'm sorry, but if I told you who, this would be a short-ass story," the assassin explained.

"Fair enough," James said, as the assassin shoved him off and leapt to his death.

James raised the platform back up to the shattered window. "Did he tell you anything useful?" Kail asked.

"Just one thing: We're gonna be earning some serious overtime."

Cue title sequence, with obligatory women dancing around like they're drunk and metaphorical imagery and shit. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Bad day at work, James?" Moneypenny flirted, as was her wont.

"Not as bad as I intend to leave your anus," Bond flirted back. The rest of the Krew (save for Pussy and Irennie) got horrified looks on their faces.

"If you're done informing my secretary that you intend to sodomize her, 007, there's something you should see," M's voice came through the speakerphone.

"Right away, M," Kail said, marching James ahead to prevent him from despoiling everybody's ears further.

The Krew sat down as M picked up a tiny box on her desk, the size of one that would hold a ring. "This is for you, 007," she said, handing him the box.

"Ooh, I love prezzies!" he cried, opening the lid. "A lead bullet! With '007' on it! Oh, M, you shouldn't have."

The rest of the Krew could almost see the steam coming out of M's ears. "It's not from me, you bloody twit! It's from Frightanime!"

"...Frightanime? Who's he?" Smiley asked.

"A world-class assassin," M answered. Smiley's eyes narrowed. "Second-best in the world, actually." Smiley bared his teeth, almost growling. "And now he has Bond in his sight."

Bond frowned. "That doesn't sound too good. Why did he send me this bullet?"

"I'll let Tanner explain that to you. I have to go now; I'm getting a bikini wax."

As M walked past them, the Krew turned and watched her go, with mixed looks of disgust/disbelief.

XXXX

"Ah, good to see the old 007 back!" Tanner greeted. "How are things, old man?"

Bond made a sour face at 'old man'. "Well, I had to give up my dream of cattle ranching to defeat a megalomaniacal terrorist, the US head of state, and some jerk masquerading as me. So, I'd say I'm so-so."

"Good, good. Listen, 007, this Frightanime is a serious fellow -- he's massively confident, and that's why he warns all his marks by sending them bullets with their names on them -- like yours, for example."

"Hey, this sounds familiar," Pussy said.

"Nonsense. Now, his trademark is that he uses a gun made entirely out of lead, and only shoots his targets with one lead bullet..."

"I'm sure I've heard of this before, actually," Pussy insisted.

"Don't be silly! Where could you have possibly heard of it before?" Tanner dismissed Pussy. "His gun is unique in that it's made out of common items: a pen, a cufflink, a lighter..."

"What's this guy's first name?" Pussy asked.

"Uh. It's Diego. Why?"

"THAT'S IT!" Pussy exclaimed. "This guy is just a cheap ripoff of Francisco Scaramanga!" Tanner gave her a blank look. "You know...the man with the golden gun? He looked an awful lot like Christopher Lee?"

Tanner broke out into a grin. "That's where you're wrong, Pussy," he corrected. "Diego Frightanime looks nothing like Christopher Lee." Tanner called up a photo of Frightanime -- he looked rather much like Jack Palance. Pussy just rolled her eyes.

"So, how are we supposed to kick this guy's ass, then?" James asked.

"Well, I imagine you can just shoot him," Tanner reasoned. "He's not some immortal with one obvious weak point, after all. The only problem will be finding him."

"Ooh, I know!" Irennie said. "We can put an ad on Craig's List!"

Tanner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, that might work...WAIT! DON'T USE MY COMPUTER!" Irennie had already hopped behind Tanner's keyboard.

"Oh hush you, I don't feel like going all the way down to my office," she pooh-poohed him. "Ooh, what's this? 'Review unfinished ad'?" She looked at Tanner tellingly. "What's the ad about, Tanner? Looking to sell old furniture, maybe seeing if you can carpool to MI-6?" she asked.

"Er...yes, I want a carpool. Now, just ignore that, and --"

"Oh my GOD!" Irennie screamed. "'Wanted: 300+ pound woman to rub shit all over my body. Please be able to host.' Tanner, you sick motherfucker!"

"Er. Quite. Could you please, er, keep it to yourselves?" he meekly asked.

Irennie looked up from the computer. "What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I was just forwarding your ad to everyone in MI-6." Within minutes, the sounds of laughter or vomiting could be heard throughout the entire building.

Face burning with humiliation, Tanner roared "Are you quite done yet?"

"No, I'm looking for you mom's email address."

"OUT! OUT!" he cried, shoving the Krew out of his office.

XXXX

Two days later, Bond and friends were staking out the parking lot of a gas station outside London, where they had posted on Craigslist that they would be waiting for Frightanime to make contact.

"It's getting late. Are you sure he'll come?" Bond whispered to Pussy, who had placed the ad in her own office after being kicked out of mean ol' Tanner's office.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. ...Look, is that him?" Pussy pointed out a car which was pulling into the gas station. The Krew watched in silence as the car parked facing the street and flashed its lights three times.

"Hmm. He gave the signal, but that's an awfully shitty car for a world-class assassin," Kail said. "Smiley, what kind of car do you drive?"

Smiley shrugged. "I was a quadriplegic until a few weeks ago. I don't drive anything."

Before the agents could get out of their car, another car pulled into the gas station and flashed its lights. "Now that's odd," Bond commented.

The Krew decided to wait a few minutes. Eight more cars eventually joined the first two. "What the hell is going on?" Irennie asked.

"Pussy, call up the ad that you posted," Smiley instructed.

Pussy frowned. "Uh, I guess I put a teensy typo in the ad."

Bond sighed. "What?"

"Instead of saying 'We need to blow a guy away', I put in 'We need to blow a guy'."

Bond took out his binoculars and examined the men across the street (who had waited in their cars). Several were in a state of undress, and Bond thanked God he couldn't see anything below mid-chest. Except that one man... "Hey, that guy on the far left has a third nipple," he said.

"Frightanime has a third nipple!" Kail said excitedly.

"So does SCARAMANGA!" Pussy screamed.

"Hush," Kail shushed. "Let's go get him!" 


	3. Chapter 3

M and the Krew peered through the one-way glass at Diego Frightanime as he fidgeted in the interrogation room. "Who gets to interrogate him?" Bond asked M.

"You do, 007," M answered. "But no funny business!" she cautioned, shaking a finger at him like a crazy old lady.

"Aww," James set down his hand-buzzer and water-squirting flower in disappointment.

After James left, Kail said, "Do you think he'll use torture?"

Smiley shook his head. "No. Only Jack Bauer gets results with torture."

"True," Kail said, fondly remembering the awesome adventure they'd all had with the CTU agent in the last fic. (THAT NOBODY GOT TO SEE, HAHAHA).

"Shh, he's starting!" Pussy said, emptying a bag of popcorn into a big bowl for everybody to share.

XXXX

"Ah, James Bond. How are you?" Frightanime asked.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Bond demanded in a loud, gravelly voice, banging his fists on the table.

"Uh..."

James laughed. "Ah, I'm shitting you. I just always wanted to do that. So, why are you trying to kill me?"

Frightanime looked confused. "Kill...you? I don't...think I'm trying to kill you. Are you sure I'M the one trying to kill you? You are a high-profile spy with over half a century of making enemies behind you, after all."

"True, true...but explain THIS!" Bond pulled out the lead bullet from his pocket and thrust it into Frightanime's face. He accidentally lost his grip on the bullet, though, and it hit the assassin in the forehead.

"Ow!" Frightanime reached under the table and picked up the bullet, where it had fallen. "Hmm...it does look like one of mine, I must admit...I certainly don't remember sending you one, though." He pondered the bullet a while longer. "Ah! I see what the problem is! The 007 font isn't in Comic Sans. It's the only font I ever use."

Bond stared coldly at Frightanime. "Comic Sans? You fucking bastard."

On the other side of the glass, Pussy said, "What? What's the big deal about Comic Sans? I use it all the time."

"Me too," Irennie added.

"But...but Comic Sans sucks!" Smiley pointed out flawlessly.

Pussy made a face. "If Comic Sans sucks, then I DON'T," she threatened.

"Comic Sans rules!" Smiley said, with a forced grin.

Back in the interrogation room, Bond was leaning directly towards Frightanime, noses practically touching. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now," Bond growled.

"Uh..." Frightanime was sweating bullets. (Metaphorical ones...like, drops of sweat. Not actual bullets. Though that would be badass). "I can tell you who made this bullet."

Bond stared at the man. "Well? Who?"

"A man obsessed with lead, who's based his entire waking life on it. His name is Plubic Leadfinger."

XXXX

The Krew walked into the Tiger Woods Memorial Country Club dressed in the jauntiest golf outfits they could find. They were there to meet Leadfinger and ascertain if he was threatening James' life. They knew little of the man, other than he owned a number of lead processing plants, and stockpiled the stuff like it was...gold, or something. This upset Pussy for some reason, but nobody paid any attention to her protests.

Bond approached the main desk. "Excuse me, is Plubic Leadfinger in today?"

The receptionist checked the logbook. "Yes, he is. He just left for the first hole a few minutes ago, actually."

Bond thanked the woman and led the Krew outside. "Ooh, golf carts. Driver!" Kail called out.

"Shotgun!" Smiley shouted.

"Aww," Bond said, slouching in sadness as he climbed into one of the rear seats.

Kail and Smiley made excited fast-sounding motor noises (despite the fact that the cart was electric) as it gently rolled towards the first hole. They reached Leadfinger quickly, who had not yet begun to play yet. He looked impatient and was checking his watch.

"Ah, playing through?" he asked them. "You might want to wait a few minutes, it's not here yet."

"What's not here yet?" Bond asked, stepping out of the cart.

Leadfinger smirked at Bond. "You truly don't know?" A small chuckle escaped his mouth. "This club is singular among all other golf courses in the world, in that each hole holds considerable danger to those who would tread upon it and sink their ball into the hole. Each hole, naturally, is more dangerous than the last. I, myself, have not had the courage to play past the seventh hole."

"Really?" Kail asked, stepping up next to James. "What's on the eighteenth hole?"

Leadfinger shrugged. "Nobody knows. The farthest anybody has ever made it was the thirteenth hole, where they simply spontaneously combusted. Rumor is that anybody who tries to play the eighteenth hole will set off a chain reaction that will make the sun explode."

"Mm, not quite a water hazard, then," Bond mused. "Look, what can you tell us about your business, Mr. Leadfinger? We're British intelligence agents, and you're wanted for questioning in a threat on my life."

"Mm, threat on your life? I don't think I've threatened anybody's life in the past week..." He checked his watch again and smiled. "Ah, good. Tell you what: If you make it through the first hole, I'll tell you everything you want to know." Leadfinger then teed off, watching his ball arc high into the sky. Before it landed, though, he ran back to his golf cart and floored it.

"What's he in a hurry for?" Smiley asked, walking up with the clubs on his shoulder.

Kail tilted his head. "Do you hear that?"

Bond narrowed his eyes. "I do...it sounds like...an Apache."

"That's impossible," Smiley dismissed. "There isn't a Native American reservation within miles of here."

Bond rolled his eyes. "No, Smiley. An Apache attack helicopter."

They stood around like idiots for a moment before they realized what Bond said.

"Attack..." Kail gulped.

"...Helicopter?" Smiley finished.

"TEE OFF! TEE OFF!" the two shouted simultaneously.

James fished a ball and some tees out of his pocket, dropping one of the tees. He pushed the tee into the earth, placed the ball atop it, and swung as hard as he could.

The ball soared far; a good hit. "Back to the cart," James said tersely.

They made it back just as the helicopter roared over the nearby treetops. Kail kicked the cart into high-gear just as a missile was launched from the Apache. "MISSILE!" Smiley announced unnecessarily.

"Hand me a club," Bond instructed.

"Five iron!" Smiley offered.

Bond took the club, leaned out the back, and hurled it like a javelin. The club struck the missile, blowing it up just shy of destroying the Krew Kart.

"Another club!" Bond commanded. Smiley handed one over silently; Bond leaned out the side and, with a mighty swing, sent the ball soaring again.

The chopper zeroed in directly behind the cart and opened up with its machine guns. Kail began swerving wildly to avoid him and his friends from being chewed to bite-sized chunks by the hail of gunfire.

XXXX

Leadfinger was lining up his final putt. He grinned; he was going to make par for the first time -- one benefit of having those buffoons distract the Apache.

The Krew Kart launched itself over a nearby row of bushes, landing squarely on top of Leadfinger's ball, the helicopter in fast pursuit. Leadfinger actually had to throw himself to the ground, as the Apache was low enough to the ground that the pilot could lean out and touch the grass if he felt like it.

Leadfinger pulled himself up and looked at where the golf ball had been. It was still there: the problem was that it had been shoved almost completely into the green by one of the cart's tires. "Bastards!" he called after the Krew, shaking his fist at them.

XXXX

Bond calculated the distance between his ball and the hole. "You have to slow down!" he said to Kail. "I can't make the putt otherwise!"

"I'd love to, but that Apache will fly straight up our ass if I do. Something I'm sure you'd enjoy." Bond glared at Kail.

James thought for a moment, then grabbed the roof of the golf cart. "Hit the roof release switch!" he instructed.

"...No! You can't do that! That's CRAZY!" Smiley shouted.

"It's crazy NOT to do it!" Bond rebutted.

"...Touche."

Kail triggered the switch, disengaging the roof from the golf cart. The roof acted as an impromptu hang-glider, pulling James upward and toward the oncoming Apache. He just barely made it under the blades, where he let go of the roof and leapt onto the cockpit of the helicopter. The pilot inside barely had time to make a shocked face when James thrust the business end of the putter through the glass, hooked the man's flight suit, and sharply yanked back. The pilot's head collided with an intact part of the canopy, causing him to black out and slump over the control stick.

Hastily, James leapt off the helicopter as it turned into a steep dive. The nose of the Apache met ground and crumpled inward, turning the unconscious pilot into paste. The blades dug into the ground, digging a great furrow until they caught onto something stronger than loose earth and snapped off, flying off in all directions at very unsafe speeds. The aircraft eventually settled on its back, tail rotor idly spinning to a stop.

The Krew gazed in awe at James, who casually brushed himself off before walking up to the nearby ball and sinking the putt -- making par for the hole.

XXXX

The Krew arrived via limousine at Leadfinger's villa in the Swiss Alps. He had begrudgingly offered to tell them what they wanted to know, but they would have to do it at a party he was throwing. They were dudded up to the nines, naturally -- James and the other men in fancy tuxedos, the Galore sisters in classy evening gowns -- and were excited at the prospect of free food.

"I bet he has a chocolate fondue!" Kail said enthusiastically as they walked up the paved path to the villa's front door. "With marshmallows, and graham crackers, and chocolate..." Kail had to mop up the drool with the fancy handkerchief that came with the rent-a-tux.

"I hope they have bacon wraps, myself," Smiley added. "Mom used to make them for me at Christmastime -- just take some breadsticks, wrap uncooked bacon around them, cook it, and coat in parmesean cheese." Smiley borrowed Kail's handkerchief and added his own drool to one of the dry parts.

"I hope he has a cheese fondue," Pussy said.

"You bitch, I already said fondue!" Kail complained.

"You said CHOCOLATE fondue. I want a CHEESE fondue." Pussy stomped her foot stubbornly.

"If he has a cheese fondue, I'm going to PEE IN IT!" Kail shrieked.

"If he has a chocolate fondue, I'm going to POO IN IT!" Pussy screamed back.

James intervened before the two could start a cat-fight. "Now, now, guys. I'm sure he'll have both a cheese and a chocolate fondue. AND BATHROOMS THAT YOU CAN USE." He sternly eyed the two of them to make sure they got the picture. "That's good. Myself, I'm looking forward to being devoured by whores."

The rest of the Krew stopped and stared at James. "Uh, what?" Kail finally asked.

"You know, they always have whores devours at parties."

Kail sighed. "James, you're thinking of hors d'oeuvres, which is basically French for appetizers. You know, like the free garlic biscuits at Red Lobster."

James' eyes widened. "Oh shit, I hope he has THOSE!" The Krew nodded in agreement -- it would be a very good thing if he had them. Hell, I hope he has them myself, and I'm just an omniscient third-person narrator.

After being greeted at the door and making their way to the refreshment table, though, they were sorely disappointed.

"What the fuck," Kail said, as he idly spooned through some black clumpy shit.

"I think that's roe," Irennie said, as she nibbled on a cracker.

"Row row your boat?"

Irennie shook her head. "Roe is fish eggs. That stuff's totally raw, by the way."

Kail spat out the bit he had tasted, picking up a napkin (he didn't want to use his handkerchief, which had Smiley Germs on it) to wipe off his tongue. "Ewewewewew," he chanted.

Leadfinger noticed them and approached. "Ah, James Bond and his friends. Allow me to introduce you to one of my peers, Bill Gates."

"Hi, everybody!" Bill said. "Who wants a free Zune?"

"Ooh! Ooh! We do!" the Galore sisters said. Gates gave them each a fancy model, with gigabytes and everything.

Kail sneered at the software mogul. "You can't fool me. You're just EVIL."

Gates narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"You founded Microsoft, one of the biggest monopolies on the plaent! You're totally evil!"

"Uh, not really? We get strong competition from OS X and Linux. Plus, I've donated billions of dollars to charity." He crossed his arms. "How much money have you ever donated to charity?"

"Charities are a scam!" Kail rebutted loudly. He was starting to draw a crowd.

XXXX

Bond and Leadfinger slipped away from the growing spectacle Kail was making of himself, with Plubic leading James to his den. "So, Mr. Bond. What do you wish to know about my activities?"

Bond showed Leadfinger the incriminating bullet. "You made this."

Leadfinger nodded. "It's quite possible. I make many bullets every day. I sell them to so many people: armies, terrorist organizations, schoolchildren...it's so hard to keep track." He opened up a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass. "Firewhiskey, Mr. Bond?" he offered. James shook his head no. "Fair enough."

"What else do you make besides bullets?" Bond asked.

"Oh, lots of stuff. I make sinkers for fishermen -- that's a very important industry, you know. And of course, I'm the number one importer of lead to China. Why, if it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a single toy in all America."

James frowned at Leadfinger's attitude, but declined to say anything harsh. "So you don't have the slightest clue who threatened my life?"

"Not a one. Sorry!"

XXXX

Smiley and Pussy had snuck off from the main party as well -- mainly to make out somewhere, but also because they wanted to disassociate themselves from Kail, whose screaming rants about the Illuminati and chemtrails was now audible even a room or two away.

They finally found a quiet room (a bedroom) and slipped into the closet. They had just started doing the tongue tango when the back wall of the closet slid open. As they happened to be leaning against that wall, they fell inward, flattening a man who had been standing on the other side of the wall.

"Get the hell off of me!" the man shouted. Once he managed to stand back up, he took an inquisitive tone. "Who the HELL are you?" he demanded.

"Oh, I'm Churchill Smiley, and this is Pussy Galore, Jr. We were just looking for a place to make out."

The man looked skeptical. "You're not spies or anything, are you?"

"Well...technically we are, but we're off-duty at the moment. So, if you're using this closet, where can we go make out at?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, go left out the hallway, pass the first hall, and enter the first door on the right."

"Okay, thanks!" Smiley said.

Just as they turned to leave, Pussy stopped and asked, "Say, what was your name, again?"

The man turned towards them ominously. "Call me...Wise Glass." Cue foreshadow-y music!

XXXXXXXXXX

Well! I haven't written a chapter for this in a while!

I was caught up on the golf course action sequence for the longest time. I was considering having Samuel L. Jackson take down the helicopter with the power of awesomeness, but that would just have been silly. Also, I named the course months ago, long before the whole Tiger Woods scandal thing. (I guess I have a psychic touch).

Hopefully, I'll be able to churn out chapters again at a regular rate. Maybe I'll even get it finished within a week! 


End file.
